


Puppy Tails - Not Well

by Aurora_bee



Series: Puppy tails [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Love, Sickfic, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John isn't very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Tails - Not Well

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any errors I don't have a beta reader atm.

It hadn’t been a particularly good day again. John had taken Gladstone for a walk and picked up a paper. When he got back to the flat he flopped down into his chair. He was so tired, and it wasn’t as if this was a new thing. It had gradually been getting worse over the last few months. He supposed he really should go to the doctor. 

Sherlock popped in from somewhere and asked if he had wanted to come with him to see Lestrade about a case. John had shaken his head and said he had too much to do around the flat. Sherlock had frowned, and hurried off. Of course he hadn’t noticed that the bags under John’s eyes were gradually getting bigger and that he hardly had the energy to pop down to ASDA and pick up the shopping. No Sherlock Holmes was completely oblivious to the obvious. 

John picked up the phone and called Sarah, enough was enough. If this was some sort of virus it had gone on too long. Sarah berated him on the phone for not coming in sooner. She made him an emergency appointment for later that afternoon. John had apologised and put down the phone. Perhaps he could get in a little nap before then. Gladstone wagged his tail and John patted his lap. 

“Come on then boy.” Gladstone jumped up on his dad’s lap. 

Sherlock was looking at Lestrade with distaste. 

“A trained monkey could solve this one.” Sherlock sighed. “Look at the air conditioning vent.” Sherlock pointed at the photograph he was holding. Lestrade blushed, embarrassed. 

“Oh..” Lestrade replied. Sherlock pulled his collar up. 

“I don’t have time for this I have other things to do today.” Sherlock walked out annoyed, he had other more pressing matters on his mind. 

Sherlock got home and John was asleep in his chair again. Gladstone jumped off his lap to say ‘hello’. Sherlock was squatting giving Gladstone a rub when John opened his eyes. 

“What time is it Sherlock.” Sherlock looked over at the clock. 

“2.15.” John stretched and yawned. 

“I’d better get up I have to pop out for a bit. Will you look after Gladstone for an hour.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course.” Sherlock replied a slight quiver in his voice. 

John slipped out of the flat. Patting Gladstone, and telling him to be good for Uncle Sherlock. 

“Owe.” John moaned as Sarah pulled the needle out of his arm. He’d just had 10 vials of blood taken, and he was feeling rather sore. 

“Doctor’s always make the worst patients.” Said Sarah smiling. “If you had told me about this earlier the phlebotomist would have taken the blood and you wouldn’t have felt a thing.” John frowned, he wished she hadn’t been right. John passed his urine sample to her. 

“Seems quite odd giving my ex-girlfriend a sample.” He smiled and she laughed. 

“The results will be back on Thursday, so make an appointment at reception and I’ll see you then.” John got up to leave, she hugged him. He melted into her arms. “Really don’t leave it so long next time.” She said, he smiled and kissed her on the cheek. 

“I won’t.” 

Neither of them saw the shadow lurking outside the window. 

Gladstone was eating his dinner when John got home. Sherlock was sat in his chair reading a book and breathless for some reason. He’d probably been looking at porn on John’s laptop again. 

Walking to the surgery had really tired John out. So much that he had gotten a taxi back to the flat. All he wanted to do now was sleep, he didn’t even want a cup of tea. Sherlock put his book down and looked toward the hall as John walked up the stairs to his room. 

John’s phone was ringing. He’d fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the bed covers. He felt like crap. He picked his phone up and looked at the time on it. 6pm. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi John.” It was Sarah. “Something rather peculiar just happened. I had a special delivery to my flat with your blood test results.” John looked confused. 

“Uhm, ok. That is weird.” He sat up and rubbed his neck. “So what do the results say?” 

“I wouldn’t normally do this, but since you are a Doctor. You have elevated calcium in your blood and urine. I noticed that it was above normal in previous tests so I’m going to make an appointment at St.Barts for an ultra sound of your throat.” 

“Hyperparathyroidism?” John crossed his eyes when he said that one. 

“Possibly.” Said Sarah. John put the phone down and sighed. There was no point worrying about it, most cases turned out to be a simple operation removing the gland. 

The next day John was sitting drinking a cup of tea. Having an idea of what could be wrong had actually made him feel a bit better. Sherlock was doing something with the toaster cross legged in front of him on the floor. It seemed that the toaster was extremely interesting today, he looked like a kid with a Christmas present. 

John’s phone rang Sherlock looked up toward him. John picked it up the number was unobtainable. 

“Mr John Hamish Watson?” A woman’s voice asked. John frowned and replied. 

“Speaking.” 

“An appointment has been made for you at Cromwell Hospital for your ultrasound at 2pm today. Please be prompt”. The phone line went dead. John looked at Sherlock suspiciously as he continued playing with the toaster. 

John left for Cromwell hospital in a taxi. It was a Bupa hospital, obviously Mycroft had something to do with it. But he didn’t care he was so fed up of feeling tired. 

He entered the building, a rather beautiful receptionist showed him to a private room. He would have to try and get her number on the way out. The doctor introduced himself and explained the procedure of the scan. The gel was really cold as the doctor spread it around on John’s neck, he shuddered in response. The doctor started to rub the probe around. After a few minutes looking at the screen the Doctor stood back. 

“Your lower left hyperparathyroid glad seems to be swollen. It’s about the size of a chicken egg. I think we should remove it.” Said the Doctor. John wiped the gel off his neck with a tissue. 

“There is a possible risk of cancer, a high percentage of these tumours are benign. However they are not generally seen in men your age.” John nodded. “Your medical expenses have all been covered. You seem in good health, I have your medical notes from for G.P. So we can perform this operation whenever you are ready.” 

“Really? There’s usually a waiting list even when you go private.” Said John, as the doctor smiled. 

“As I said your care has been paid for, in full. I will warn you that there is a risk of damage to your voice box. It’s not something that I can prevent if the tumour is pressing into it.” John thought for a moment, rubbing his throat absentmindedly. 

“As soon as possible would be good.” The doctor nodded in response, and looked through his appointments book. 

“Tomorrow at 9.00am. You’ll be given a general anaesthetic so you will need someone to be with you for the rest of the day.” 

“Oh.” John replied. “Would a 12 week old puppy do?” The doctor raised his eyebrows. 

“Not really.” 

Sherlock wasn’t at home when he got back. He’d popped in to pick up Gladstone who was eating half a Cornish pasty Mrs Hudson had just made. He told her he had to go into hospital the next day. She hugged him sniffing slightly and gave him a foil package of warm pasties to take upstairs. 

He really needed to talk to Sherlock. He’d thought about asking Harry to come and look after him for about 5 seconds. She’d probably just drink all his beer and pass out. Was asking your flatmate to look after you after a general anaesthetic a normal thing to do? Mrs Hudson could do it until bed time, but what about through the night, and she would worry. Mrs Hudson worried a lot, she called him and Sherlock ‘her boys’. John didn’t want to put her through that, he sighed. 

Half way through his first really spectacular Cornish pasty Sherlock turned up looking rather morose. 

“Bad day Sherlock?” John asked. 

“You could say that John.” Sherlock took his coat off and sat down in his chair. 

“I need to ask you a favour.” John started. “I have to have a small procedure tomorrow but it involves a general anaesthetic, and someone needs to keep an eye on me for the rest of the day.” 

“Yes. I will take care of you.” John was in shock, he hadn’t really expected an answer so quickly without some sort of argument. He smiled at Sherlock, but Sherlock was gone his head down straight into his bedroom. 

“Thanks.” John called after him. 

Gladstone kept scratching Sherlock’s door and whining. John had knocked on the door to check on Sherlock, he just said he was busy and that Gladstone would just get in the way if he let him in. John didn’t understand, it was all rather confusing, but Sherlock was just like that, weird. 

Later that night Sherlock had left his bedroom, John purposely stepped in his way as Sherlock tried to leave, he was concerned. Sherlock kept his head down. 

“You will have to be at Cromwell hospital at about 1:00 to pick me up Sherlock.” John caught Sherlock’s eyes. They were red and glazed. “Are you ok Sherlock?” 

“Yes, yes. Allergies.” Sherlock replied irritated at the interruption. He sped out of the door. 

John went to bed at 10:00 Sherlock hadn’t returned. He rolled over and wondered if Lestrade could keep an eye on him if Sherlock forgot. 

8:00am the next morning John was ready, Sherlock was no-where to be seen. He dropped Gladstone off to Mrs Hudson who was baking, telling her Gladstone had eaten his breakfast already. Gladstone wagged his tail, and John knew he would be eating freshly baked fairy cakes soon. He smoothed Gladstone. 

“You be good for Mrs Hudson.” He bent over and gave Mrs Hudson a kiss on the cheek. “See you soon.” 

He walked outside, and closed the front door. When he turned around Sherlock was behind him, he jumped. 

“Oh you’re back. Gladstone’s with Mrs Hudson.” John said annoyed, Sherlock smiled. 

“I know. He gestured toward a taxi behind him. I made sure I was here to escort you to the hospital.” Sherlock was looking a lot better than he did last night. 

“You don’t have to come.” John said dismissively. Sherlock put his hand on John’s shoulder. 

“I have to take care of my blogger.” They both smiled and got into the cab. 

John had to fill in some forms before they gave him the anaesthetic. He didn’t even have to think about it. 

Next of kin: Sherlock Holmes, 221b Baker Street, London. 

John smiled, his best friend. The man who was prepared to wait hours until his anaesthetic wore off to take him home. 

He got on the trolley in a rather inelegant backless gown. The nurse put a cannula in the back of his right hand and another in his left arm. Then they fed the anaesthetic in, he thought about Sherlock. The nurse was counting down from 10. Then it hit him, Sherlock loved him! His eyes closed slowly in the glow of the thought and he was out. 

When John woke he was really disorientated. 

“Black curls.” He garbled, his throat was sore like someone had shoved a rasp down it. “Man with black curls.” The nurse looked at him like he was an idiot. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She snapped. John lay back and tried to get his thoughts straight. There was something important that he had to remember. He grunted as the pulled his trolley into a private room. 

Several minutes later John realised he needed to pee really badly, there was no way in hell he was going to use one of those tube things. He managed to get himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He found his slippers next to him, put them on, stood up and grabbed the bed. He was still a bit wobbly. Arms wrapped around him. Sherlock had appeared from no-where. 

“John, where are you going?” John gave Sherlock a huge smile. 

“Pee.” John said roughly, Sherlock smiled wonkily. 

“And you don’t want to use a chamber pot.” Sherlock surmised. John shook his head. Sherlock helped him walk to the toilet, realising at the same time he would have to hold John up while he pee’d. He turned red. 

The toilet fiasco was rather embarrassing for both of them. John had realised he was wearing a gown that was backless. Sherlock realised he would have to hold John’s back to him and the gown up as he pee’d. Sherlock took a deep breath as John’s bare buttocks crushed into his groin. Mentally he went though a list of his favourite cheeses hoping it would distract him. 

Sherlock loaded John’s things into the taxi as John thanked the doctor and nurse. 

“Your boyfriend really is rather caring.” John didn’t say anything. He literally couldn’t, he had a hole in his neck stuck together with superglue and the anaesthetic had worn off. The massive co-codamol tablets they had given him looked painful, so he wasn’t going take one until he was desperate. John also found that he didn’t really mind anymore, there was nothing wrong with being thought of as gay and he could do a hell of a lot worse than Sherlock. John shook the doctor’s hand as Sherlock beckoned him into the taxi. John got in and waved at the staff. The doctor turned to the nurse. “It’s so nice to see two people who care for each other like that. Mr Holmes spent a small fortune ensuring that Doctor Watson received the best possible care. He came to see me himself you know.” 


End file.
